DH once told me that he had always thought his (now ex) best friend was better looking than he was. That admission was no great shock to me, since he had a mother who called him a "dog-faced-boy" his whole life, thereby ensuring that his self-esteem remained nonexistent so that she could manipulate him with greater ease.
We'll call this ex-best-friend Pig, since that is a name most reflective of his character. And it is my opinion, however biased, that he was never better looking than DH. I recognize that Pig is considered "attractive" by standards of society but I'm not going to bother with a physical description because I would rather spend the time discussing his innards. If you have a need to "see" him in your mind's eye, just open up the nearest woman's magazine and find an ad for Armani where the dude is wearing white briefs and cowboy boots, smoking a cigarette. Pig looks like that, only less chiseled. But, no matter how prettily packaged, this dude is still just a walking, talking penis. I am a woman who looks much deeper than most, and I don't like what I See when he crosses my line of sight. Care for a helping of evidence?
1. The night of his wedding rehearsal, he leaned in to hug me goodbye and said, "Take care of your boobs for me." I kid you not. I was so stunned by it that I didn't know how to react. It wasn't until I got in the car that what he had said actually hit me. By then, of course it was too late, and whatever retorts I came up with were useless. I can say them here though..."Sure, pal, right after I kick you in the balls." or "Are you actually going to kiss your wife with that mouth? Oh wait, you two actually deserve each other." or "Fuck off, penis head." or SLAP!
2. He openly discussed his excitement over having gotten a chance to see NMIL's boob when she "accidentally" let it fall out of her shirt a couple of years ago. I know, Dear Reader, yuck. Yuck to Pig, who was excited about that sort of thing, and yuck to DH's pedophile momster.
3. He took great pride in vaguely referencing events from DH's sexual past, while wink-winking and implying that he was special because he was privy to information that I was not.
4. While on the phone with DH, his reason for not openly speaking about his feelings concerning DH's "situation" (read: the mother of his child and woman he would be marrying) was because DH was in "mixed company." The "mixed company" he was referring to was me. Once I left the room and could no longer hear the conversation, he let it rip. He showed his true colors as a Flying Monkey in those moments, by expressing his "concerns" for NMIL and her hurt feelings. He also made it clear that his loyalties did not remain with DH, but with DH's mother.
5. He wanted strippers at his bachelor party. Call me a prude, if you like, but I think that speaks volumes about this guy's priorities and morals.
I'll leave it up to you, Dear Reader, to decide if "Pig" is an appropriate name for this guy. I realize I am painting a rather ugly picture of him, and that it may be unfair of me to do so. He may very well have good qualities. I've just never seen them. I had the displeasure of sharing his company only a handful of times, and none of them were very pleasant, so I've based my opinion of him on those experiences. Pig was the "best friend" who showed up to DH's Unbirthday Party without acknowledging DH's birthday in June of 2009. Pig was the "best friend" who accepted invitations to NMIL's holiday parties, even when DH wasn't going. Pig was the "best friend" who was devastated that DH got rid of texting because "Now we'll never be able to talk to each other!" Pig was the "best friend" who didn't include me on the wedding invitation, even though DH and I were pregnant, engaged, and obviously a legitimate couple. Pig was the "best friend" who spent more time telling DH not to marry that crazy bitch, than actually listening and being supportive. Pig was the "best friend" who entertained all of NMIL's crazy talk and even eagerly flew out to do her bidding. But wait, Dear Reader, there is more. Pig was also the "best friend" who found every reason to hate me because I took the "doormat" out from under his feet. And he was the "best friend" who wanted DH to sleep over his house the night before his wedding, and got angry when DH declined because his fiance might go into labor. Immature much? Narcissistic much? Obnoxious much? I mean, really, wouldn't you just love to have a best friend like that, Dear Reader?
But Pig made me sad much more than he made me angry. It sucked seeing DH get treated like dirt by seemingly every single damn person in his life. It seemed that, since abuse was the only thing he ever knew from his mother growing up, he didn't know how to avoid it, even when he had the option to do so. NMIL taught him how to be abused, not how to stand up for himself. She taught him how to ignore and rationalize the abuse away, not how to recognize it and take action. So he went out into the world and picked out friends and girlfriends that would fit in well to the world she had created. He chose people who would either allow him to be abused by her, or else abuse him themselves. He chose people who didn't care about him or his feelings and only wanted to manipulate him for their own personal gain.
Until he met me, that is, and something clicked. I provided him with something solid and real, something truthful and tangible. I offered him love, respect, and honesty. I saw in him a depth yet discovered, and endless possibilities. I cared about him, not because of what he could do for me, but because of who he was.
Oh, Pig must have hated that. And therefore, he clung even tighter to his source of power, NMIL. Why, Dear Reader, he even invited her to his wedding, where she sat at our table with her human shield for a daughter (who came to her brother's friend's wedding, but not her her future sister-in-law's baby shower). That's right, he made sure to invite DH's mother and sister, but not his very pregnant wife-to-be. I went to the festivities anyway, and got some super good food out of the deal, but the fact that Pig was going to all that trouble to make sure everyone knew how he felt about me was ridiculously obvious. He might as well have taken the microphone from the DJ and made an announcement. I wouldn't have been surprised.
Eh, pigs. Flying Monkeys. What's the difference, right?